


Jason Todd Is Not Your Big Brother

by cylobaby27



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Jason is bad at feelings, Non-graphic discussion of Jason's death, Rated for Jason's mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylobaby27/pseuds/cylobaby27
Summary: Jason isn't part of the Wayne family. No one told his siblings that.





	Jason Todd Is Not Your Big Brother

Sirens wailed in the distance, approaching the warehouse. Jason holstered his pistol, wiping a smudge of blood from the barrel with his thumb. Though he’d stopped using lethal force when he could avoid it, his guns were still his favorite weapons. They had the perfect intimidation factor, looked badass, and had nice sharp edges and weight for bludgeoning.

“We need to get out of here,” Red Robin said.

Jason nodded, scanning the ground one more time to make sure all of the gang members were either unconscious or bound, and then grappled to the roof. Tim followed. They moved a few blocks away from the scene, and then perched on the roof to watch the Gotham police storm the warehouse.

“Thanks for the assist tonight, Hood,” Tim said.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Jason lied. “I already had my eye on this gang. They’ve started funneling drugs into my territory.”

“Still,” Tim said, stretching his arms overhead. He had the same limber grace as Dick, and contorted his wrist in a disturbing manner to get the best stretch. Though Jason had slimmed down since his early Red Hood years, he was still too bulky for some of the Robins’ contortionism. “It’s getting late. Things should be quiet for the rest of the night, and Batgirl is starting her patrol soon.”

“The criminal element tends to scurry back into their holes after a bust like this,” Jason agreed. “I think there’s some sort of short-term memory issues happening. Just because they saw us out tonight doesn’t mean we’re not still around tomorrow, but you know they’ll be back on their bullshit.”

Tim bounced on his toes, shaking out his hands. “I almost wish they would pull something else tonight. Sometimes adrenaline is better than coffee. Almost. I’m still wired.”

Jason nodded. “They barely put up a fight, especially once they saw we were both on the scene. Ever think we’re overqualified for this shit?”

Tim shrugged. “The second you start to think that, one of the rogues comes by and reminds you to appreciate the grunts. Ugh, I need to get some energy out. Come over and play video games with me.”

The mask was still covering Jason’s head, so he put extra inflection in his voice. “ _Video games_? Seriously, Double-R?”

“What? They’re a good way to chill out.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should. I’m the reigning Robin champ at all handheld gaming systems. Cass is oddly talented with a Wii, but I don’t think that counts.”

“I don’t know what that means. Besides, the other flaw in your plan is that I’m still not welcome at the Manor. Hard to play video games from the front lawn.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You have an open invite, and you know it. You’re the one who hasn’t bothered to take up on it.”

“Words, words, words. You know Batsy would flip his shit if I walked in.”

“I think you’re wrong, but that doesn’t matter. It’s not just his house. It’s mine, and Dick’s, and yours. I know Alfred has specifically asked you to dinner at least three times this year.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You have to come home eventually, you know.”

Jason just shook his head.

“Fine. Is there a console at your place? I haven’t seen your apartment yet.”

With a snort, Jason said, “Yeah, that’s not an accident. I don’t need Robins crawling all over the place. And no, I don’t. I missed a few years of gaming tech, what with the whole being dead thing. I never bothered to catch up. The new Xbox looks like something out of Krypton.”

“What, you don’t even have a Nintendo 64?” Tim asked, looking vaguely horrified.

He did, but he shrugged. “Sorry, kid. Haven’t you heard? Video games will eat your brains.”

“That’s zombies,” Tim said.

“Then maybe you should be a little more scared of me,” Jason said, snapping his teeth so they clicked loudly in the night air.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Can’t you find someone else to play your games with? Damian should be home tonight.”

Tim laughed. “Yeah, right. The kid’s a nightmare to try to game with. He takes it all way too seriously, and pouts when he loses. Besides, you and I haven’t gotten to hang out much. Video game bonding is what brothers do.”

Jason winced, and masked it by using the motion to cuff Tim’s shoulder lightly. “Go home and stop bothering me, Replacement,” he said.

Tim shrugged. “Next time, then,” he said, before bounding off the rooftop and jumping to the next building over.

Jason huffed quietly to himself before heading off in the opposite direction. _Brothers_. Yeah, right.

 

 

###

 

Jason wakes up to the sound of someone moving in his kitchen. His journey from sleeping to awake has never been smooth, even before his time six feet under. When he lived on the streets, he’d learned never to leave himself vulnerable. Too much could happen to a sleeping kid in Gotham, and he wasn’t going to be caught unaware.

For a few months, when he’d felt safe at Wayne Manor, he had started falling into heavier sleep, but a maniac and a crowbar had taken that from him forever.

Unlike Bruce, who went from unconscious to calculating in a blink, Jason had to fight his way through a beat of panic every time. (It only took waking up to a coffin once to scar you forever.) When he opened his eyes, he was already sitting up, pulling the gun from under his pillow and aiming it blindly toward the source of the noise. There was a light on in the apartment, which seeped through his bedroom door. He frowned. A bold move for a thief or murderer.

Keeping his gun in his hand, Jason slipped from under his covers and padded out of his bedroom on silent feet.

A girl in a matte black costume was sitting at his kitchen table, methodically stitching a gash in her forearm. She looked up when he entered, and then returned to her stitches without a comment. Her short black hair had fallen slightly in her eyes when she’d taken off her mask, but she didn’t move it out of her way.

There was a bloody pile of gauze on the table beside her, and the stitches were almost complete. She’d been in the apartment for several minutes at least before Jason had woken up. He needed to work on his security, since he couldn’t rely on his senses against the type of people who came to call.

“This isn’t a hospital, Black Bat,” he drawled.

Cass nodded.

He huffed, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and went into his living room. He wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep knowing someone was inside his apartment. Might as well entertain himself.

He had read twenty pages of his current novel when Cass slipped into the living room and sat down on the couch beside him. She had a juice box in hand. It was incongruous to see the quiet assassin sipping steadily through a bendy straw, but Jason had seen weirder.

“What are doing?” he asked.

She waved her stitched arm and then held up the juice box. Right. Blood loss.

Once she finished her drink, she leaned heavily against his shoulder, like a cat. Sighing, he tilted the book so she could read along with him, but she just closed her eyes and snuggled closer.

 “Do you do this with every almost-stranger whose house you break into?” he muttered, turning the page with one thumb so he wouldn’t jostle her.

She reached over and pressed a finger against his nose. He crossed his eyes to look at it. “Brother,” she said.

He scoffed and wrinkled his nose so she’d move her finger. “Not even a little bit. Maybe you still need some help with your English,” he said.

She tapped his nose again. “ _Little_ brother,” she added.

“Oh, hell no,” he grumbled. “Get out of my apartment.”

She ignored him and closed her eyes again, falling asleep before he finished the chapter he was on. He muttered to himself, but didn’t move. He was already awake, and she seemed like she needed the sleep.

 

###

 

Jason had a shadow.

He’d noticed it a few blocks back. When he’d become Batman’s Robin, he’d learned a lot, from acrobatics to which fork rich people used for salad, but noticing when someone was following him? That was something Jason had learned on the streets. As Red Hood, Jason made a splashier entrance than Batman and his crew, but he still wanted to be able to move unseen when he needed to. Despite his bulk, he’d learned to hide in the shadows and take unusual routes, throwing off anyone who might try to follow him back to his apartment. This shadow was better than most, but Jason was the best.

He ducked behind a fire escape at one point to glance back and get a glimpse of his pursuer. When he saw who it was, he sighed heavily and then found an empty roof to settle down on and wait.

A minute late, Robin landed silently on the lip of the roof.

Jason, leaning against the building’s roof access door, gave him a small wave. “Demon-bird,” he greeted.

Robin stepped onto the roof, rolling his shoulders. “Hood,” he sneered.

“You should work on your tailing,” Jason commented. “If I had been someone you were really after, I’d have spooked three streets back.”

“ _Tt_. It took you ten blocks to even notice I was on your tail,” Damian said. “I had to do something to make you slow down.”

Jason frowned behind his mask. “Whatever. Why were you stalking me?”

Damian sat down on edge of the roof and crossed his legs, balancing precariously with the five story drop behind him. He was as unconcerned as only the very young or very well-trained could be; in this case, it was probably both. “I need your advice.”

“You _what_? Don’t you have Oracle sitting in your ear for this kind of thing?”

“It’s personal.”

Barking out a laugh, Jason said, “You hunted me down in the middle of my patrol for _personal advice_?”

“Shut up, Todd.”

“This is both the greatest and weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Jason said wonderingly. “Did Poison Ivy dose you with something? Did she dose _me_ with something? Let’s hear it. Did Bruce skip on the ‘here’s where you’ll start growing hair’ talk? Because while puberty brings all sorts of wonderful and scary experiences, that’s the sort of thing you should go to Dick for. He’ll probably cry that his little girl is all grown up.”

Damian folded his arms. “If you talk like that around Babs or Steph, you’ll get your ass kicked.”

“Speaking from experience?”

The boy didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“Get out of here, demon-brat. I have a patrol to finish.”

“This neighborhood is quiet at this hour.”

“Well, I did take a detour so you wouldn’t follow me into the worst of it,” Jason pointed out. “Go talk to one of your brothers.”

“I can’t talk to them,” Damian said, stomping his foot. “They don’t have the same experiences that we do. Their relationships with Father are very different.”

“This is about Bruce?” Jason asked, losing some of his amusement.

“Your connection with Father is a bit closer to mine. You… you’ve killed people, too. You spent time with the League. You challenge Father’s moral code even more than I do. He doesn’t know how to handle either of us.”

“We’re not the same,” Jason said.

“Obviously,” Damian sniffed. “I’m clearly still the superior son.” He kicked at the rooftop. “This should be easier for me,” he added in a mutter.

“I’m not Bruce’s son at all. But I know nothing’s easy when it comes to talking to Batman.”

Damian sighed. “Clearly. How did you make him trust you?”

“You think Bruce trusts me?” Jason asked incredulously.

Ignoring him, Damian continued, “You’ve killed people recently, and in Gotham. And not just criminals—you nearly killed Tim. You’d think you would have been on probation longer than me. Did you know that I’m still not supposed to patrol alone?”

“That might have more to do with the fact that you’re ten years old,” Jason said, resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably. Why did Damian think that Bruce trusted Jason? Everything he’d listed was true, and more. Bruce wouldn’t trust Jason further than he could throw him. Right?

“Tt. I’m twelve, and I'm better trained than most other vigilantes, no matter how old they are. It has to be because he doesn’t trust me not to use lethal force if I get upset.”

“You do have a temper,” Jason pointed out.

Damian just raised his eyebrows and gestured between them, as if to say that was another thing they had in common.

“Have you killed anyone lately?”

“No!” Damian burst. “I wouldn’t. To be Robin, I can’t kill. I understand that.”

“Look, kid, have you _asked_ Bruce why he’s making you hang back?”

“Yes. Well, no. Not in those words.” He huffed. “You said he’s impossible to talk to anyway.”

“Yeah, well if you both don’t bother using human language, you’re gonna be stuck. You don't know that it's about your past and not your age, or a dozen other reasons. Take a page from Dick’s book. One of you has to make the conversation happen, and it’s not gonna be B.”

“Hm.” Damian nodded to himself. “Thank you, Todd.” He stood up, glanced over his shoulder, and then flipped off the rooftop. Apparently their conversation was over.

“I’m not an advice columnist!” Jason shouted after him, but there was no response.

 

###

 

There was a knock at Jason’s door.

He peered through the peep hole, and then sighed. He opened it just enough to fit his body in the frame, blocking the way in. “At least you know how to knock. You must be the only one of your group who got any sort of decorum training.”

Dick grinned at him. “I didn’t want to get shot and drop the cookies!” He thrust a tin forward, and Jason had to grab them quickly so they didn’t fall.

“Cookies?” Jason asked, looking down at the container. “Please tell me you’re not trying to bake again. I can do better than your castoff shit.”

“Use your nose, genius,” Dick said.

Jason lifted the lid and sniffed. Double chocolate cookies, as familiar as his own hands. “You stole cookies from Alfred for me? You’re going to end up on dusting duty.”

“Idiot,” Dick said affectionately. “Who do you think handed them to me and shoved me out the door? He wants to bribe you into coming to dinner. Let me in.”

“You shouldn’t have given me the cookies first, dumbass,” Jason said. Dick shouldered his way forward before he could slam the door. They struggled for a second before Dick managed to shove his way inside.

Pretending Jason hadn’t nearly taken his nose off in the doorframe, Dick sauntered into the apartment, peering around curiously. “Cool place,” he said. He paused at the bookshelf near the entrance, glancing at the titles.

Jason sighed and locked the door. “Alfred wants me to come to dinner?” he asked, setting the tin of cookies on the kitchen table. He had disinfected it after Cass’s impromptu visit the other week. The criminal and vigilante elements in Gotham probably funded half of the bleach business in town. He wondered if Wayne Enterprises had gotten a slice of that yet. “Why did he send you?”

Dick shrugged, plucking Jason's copy of _The Poisonwood Bible_ from the shelf and reading the back. "He knows I'm your favorite brother."

Jason snorted. "Right," he drawled. "And, uh, _why_ does he want me to come?"

“You know how Alfred is about family dinners,” Dick said. “Everyone else is back from their missions. We’re just missing one person now.”

“I’m not coming to your family dinners,” Jason told him.

“Why not? Remember, this answer is going back to Alfred.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason enunciated clearly, teeth clacking, “I’m not _part_ of your _family_.”

“Bullshit,” Dick snapped with more ferocity than Jason had expected, shoving the book back on the shelf. “Is that seriously the line you’re going to take?”

Jason folded his arms. “It’s true.”

“It’s not. Even if you want to be pretend to be all distant or whatever, Bruce adopted you.”

“He adopted someone who is legally dead now,” Jason said. “That whole deal is void. He’d agree.”

“No, he wouldn’t. And if he did, he’d be wrong. You’re part of the family whether you like it or not.”

“That’s not your choice.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Dick said. “You know, when I first came to the Manor, I thought the idea of a family-by-choice was bullshit. I’d just lost both of my parents and I didn’t want or need a new dad. But that’s what Bruce became. Then, you showed up, and I loved you almost as soon as your confrontational ass joined the team. But I didn’t know how to be a brother. I’d never been one before, and I didn’t know how to turn a stranger into family.”

“Dick—”

“I was a shitty brother to you. I didn’t know how to help you, and I was jealous that Bruce had someone new to train. You took my name and my suit, and I thought you were going to take my dad. So I left. And then you died, and that was my fault.”

“Dick, you idiot—”

“Just listen to me,” Dick snarled. “I have a second chance at this. You’re back, you’re not trying to kill us anymore, and I _have a second chance_. Get over yourself. You don’t want to be part of the family? Too bad. You’re my brother, and I’m going to make sure you know it this time around.”

Jason opened his mouth, but the words were caught in his throat. He swallowed, and then said in a voice that felt raw and low, “It wasn’t your fault that I died.”

“When you were in that warehouse, when everything was happening, did you think for even a second that I might come save you?" he asked. "I’m sure you were mostly hoping for Bruce, but when he wasn’t there, did you think of me? When you were _dying_ , did you hope that I would swing in and save the day?”

Jason couldn’t answer. He had. Of course he had.

Dick nodded. “That’s what I thought. I failed you, Jay.”

Jason wrested his voice back into his control. “If that’s true, then everyone in the whole universe failed me. By the end, I was praying for the fucking Easter Bunny to show up. You didn’t _know_ , Dickie. You would have saved me if you could have. I know that now. Hell, I knew it then. When I came back, I blamed you because I was a hurt, scared kid fresh out of the Pit. But it’s not on you. It’s on the Joker. You don’t have to bring me back into the family and, and make me come to Sunday dinner and Easter and Christmas to make up for it. It’s done.”

“It’s not done. That’s the whole point, Jay. You’re back. You’re _alive_. My brother is here in town, sane and healthy.” He ignored Jason’s snort. “I have a second chance to be your big brother, and you don’t get to just throw that away. I’ll drag you back to the Manor physically if I have to. Hell, if the Manor is still such an issue for you, we’ll meet up somewhere else. Maybe just me at first, but the other kids deserve to get to know you as their brother too. But it’s been killing Alfred that you haven’t been back yet.”

“I was a problem kid even before I died,” Jason said. “He has an entire brood to worry about now. He’ll survive without me.”

“Say that to his face,” Dick challenged. “Jason. Believe what you want, but everyone else thinks you’re part of the family. At some point, your opinion stops mattering. Do you really think this group of paranoid superheroes would try to welcome you in if you weren’t their brother? Damian barely sees anyone as worth his time, but he talks about you like you’re one of us. Tim is desperate for another big brother. Cass _trusts_ you. We just want you to come home.”

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to push down the emotions welling forward. “If I come to dinner, it’s just dinner. I’m not moving back in…or plastering a bat on my uniform.”

Dick laughed. His sudden fury died down as quickly as it had gathered, leaving behind the Nightwing Jason knew. How much regret and pain did Dick’s usual smile hide? “I don’t think anyone’s going to waste time giving you fashion advice.”

“I wouldn’t take it from you lot anyway,” Jason said. “ _Discowing_.”

“I rocked that look and you know it,” Dick said. “So, Alfred is making a big dinner tonight. Can I tell him you’ll be there?” He held up a hand. “Don’t say yes unless you mean it. I don’t want to get his hopes up.”

“Everyone will be there?”

“Everyone,” Dick confirmed.

“Does B know you’re inviting me?”

“He does. Even if we hadn’t mentioned it to him, I’m sure he’d know. He wants you there, Jay. He’s terrible at saying it, but he misses you too. We’ll make sure he holds his tongue, at least until we get through the first course.”

“I would never expect a dinner at the Manor to not end in some sort of shouting match,” Jason said.

“Good. Then you’re all set. I’ll tell Alfred to set the extra place.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jason hedged.

Dick shrugged. “I guess that’s the best I can hope for. Just remember that if you don’t come tonight, I’ll be back next week, and the next.”

“Will you keep bringing bribes?” Jason teased, nodding to the cookies on the counter.

“If that’s what it takes,” said Dick with a shrug.

When Dick left, Jason closed the door and then leaned his forehead against the cool wood. “Fuck,” he muttered.

 

###

 

That night, Jason left his apartment a half hour later than planned. His bed was a mess of discarded shirts. He had picked up his keys and put them back down more than a dozen times, and had actually gone to the door more than that.

He took the motorcycle. If he decided to fly past Wayne Manor without stopping, he could tell himself he was only out for a joyride anyway. He pulled up the long driveway and parked by the front door. It was weird approaching the Manor this way. He’d always thought that his first return would be through the Cave, probably during some emergency.

There was no emergency tonight. Just an invitation he couldn’t bring himself to ignore again.

The motorcycle wasn’t a subtle approach. The front door opened before Jason could hit the last step. Alfred stood just inside, watching Jason with a neutral expression. Jason stopped in front of him, wishing he had something to do with his hands. “Hey, Alfie,” he greeted.

Alfred took a deep breath, and then reached out to grip Jason’s shoulders. His grip was weaker than it had once been. He stared at him for a long moment, and then said, “Welcome back, Master Jason.”

“Is that Todd?” shouted a voice from inside that sounded like Damian. “Good. We can finally eat. Tell him to come in!”

Alfred’s lips twitched. “Do come in, Master Jason. We’ve missed you.”

Jason shrugged. “I heard there was a family dinner happening. Thought you could use the black sheep.”

“I believe every member of the family would like to take that particular moniker,” Alfred said, finally releasing his shoulders. “You may not be able to hoard it to yourself. Try not to mention it to them, or it might catch on. I wouldn’t like to see the cleaning process for a wool-based line of uniforms.”

“Speaking of, is that lamb I smell?” Jason asked, sniffing the air. “With the pomegranate sauce? I used to love that dish.”

“You say that as though you didn’t think I’d remember your favorite meal,” Alfred said. “There’s haricot vert on the side, and I think you know what’s for dessert.”

Jason grinned, and stepped through the threshold.  

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://starknjarvis27.tumblr.com/)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Jason Todd is Not Your Big Brother (Podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15036683) by [cylobaby27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cylobaby27/pseuds/cylobaby27)




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